“You’ll learn,” she says without missing a beat. “Now, since this is all weird for you, to say the least, Bodhi’s said he’s down to ease you in, tell you what we do, show you some of your past work.”
“Word, bird,” Bodhi says, gesturing for me to join him at the other side of the room near a laptop.
“That okay?” Ms. Himberton asks.
“Uh, sure, yeah,” I say, walking toward Bodhi. “Thanks.”
I’m relieved to hear Ms. Himberton pick back up with whatever she’d been saying before I walked in, the intense glare of the spotlight finally off me.
“Glad you made it,” Bodhi says, putting an arm around my shoulders. “Otherwise I would’ve had to come to your house and drag you here at knifepoint.”
“That’s a fun image.”
“Okay, let’s get you up to speed, then.” Bodhi clicks around on the laptop, opening different folders. “So, for starters, this is yearbook. Do you know what a yearbook is?”
I stare at him. “I lost years of memories, not basic concepts of existence.”
“Well, I don’t know!” Bodhi holds on to the backward bill of his cap. “This is my first time experiencing one of your loop-backs, I’m just trying to make this easy for you!”
“Okay, thank you,” I say. “I know what a yearbook is.”
“Great. And this thing is called a laptop.”
“Yeah, I—”
“That was a joke,” Bodhi says. “All right, so... here we go! Exhibit A.” He turns the screen toward me. “Proof that you’ve done yearbook and, more important, proof that we’re friends.” It’s the group photo for the yearbook committee—Bodhi and I are standing next to each other smiling.
“I mean, technically that just proves we were standing next to each other,” I say.
“Dude!” Bodhi says. “I swear we’re friends, I swear on my life. I swear on my dog’s life!”
“I’m just messing with you, man.”
“Oh, all right.” Bodhi is back to clicking through folders. “That’s fair. You deserve to have some fun. Ah, check this out! Here’s one of your pics.”
It’s a tennis match, this kid’s face contorted as his racketconnects with the ball. You can feel the energy of the moment, see the sweat on the guy’s forehead.
“I took that?”
“Yeah. It’s unreal, right?”
I have memories of occasionally messing around with the camera on my phone, but I never produced anything like this. This picture islegit.
“Let me find another one,” Bodhi says. “You’re always really picky about what you show other people, so there aren’t a ton. Oh, this is one. From Fall Fest.”
It’s a couple of Ridgedale High students behind a table, selling apple cider and hot chocolate. Yet somehow it’s a gorgeous photo, the trees behind them in soft focus, an autumnal smear of orange, yellow, and red.
“This is so good,” I say.
“I know, right? That’s why we need you to join again.” Bodhi continues his scroll.
“Yeah, but how do I even—”
“Oh, this is another one!” Bodhi stops on a picture of runners. “No, wait, never mind.” He keeps scrolling.
“Was that not one I took?”
“I’m not really sure,” Bodhi says. “I thought it was, but now I don’t think so.”
